[Closed] Drink With Me To Days Gone By

[madame_de_fer]

WHO: DAI advisors and companions, yes even Cole
WHAT: Drinking and remembering... party? Not a party.
WHEN: Mid Guardian, right after this. Well, once everyone's not freezing ass in the snow.
WHERE: Vivienne's Balcony
NOTES: Drinks. Feels. Varric and Cassandra, please keep to opposite ends of the balcony, if you please. (Tag around and in and whatever how you like.)



[After the heated emotional outbreak over the sending crystal, and the resultant reminder of the one they've lost, Vivienne quietly opens her balcony to those who knew the Herald best. Silent drinking is allowed, raging tempers are not. Sharing fond memories of the Herald welcomed and possibly even craved.]

Comments

[hugeinorlais]

It'd been a while since Varric had actually yelled at people; he'd forgotten how ridiculously draining it was to be so angry. When given an invitation up to Vivienne's balcony, to reminisce and talk? Well, he did take a moment to think it over, being sad wasn't exactly something that rejuvenated anybody, but he ultimately decided to join her.

He was going to be sad whether he took her up on the invitation or not, really.

So, given the choice between sulking in the tavern and lounging with the Iron Lady while sharing a fine bottle of cognac, Varric made the obvious selection.

On a less depressing note, Vivienne's Balcony was warm and her taste in furniture was a far cry more comfortable than most of the stuff he'd had brought in. (He was rich, sure, but he wasn't 'let's furnish a fortress with goose down stuffed settees' rich.) He sank into one of her chairs, a glass of Orlesian brandy in hand, and let out a heavy sigh.

"Nothing improves a snowy day quite like arguing about religion and the dead," Varric groused tiredly, to no one in particular. There was no anger in his voice.

[fightingale]

"Perhaps we could round it out with politics," Leliana suggests, from not-that-close and not-too-far, weight resting against the balcony rail. There is a certain dry sneer in her voice, and it does not do everything to veil a more real rawness that clenches her throat. "Or broken hearts."

They are a miserable pair, it seems, but she drinks to the seat near him, tilting her head towards it in a silent question - may I join you?

She stands stiff, rigid, and there is a gauntness to her that was not there two weeks ago. She has had no intention of leaving her tower, not after Zevran was taken, not with the failure to catch an infiltrator in the very midst a fresh wound, but she could not fail Evelyn, as well.

[madame_de_fer]

"If by improve, you mean spoil worse than the cook's attempts at coq au vin." Of course, the absolute swill the steward provided in terms of wine for the evening meal could be to blame for the ruined dish every time, but the cook should know better than to use a vintage which could pass for vinegar. There is a reason that Vivienne goes to the trouble and expense of having her own viands brought in.

In an attempt to brighten the tone of the evening, Vivienne directs the conversation to something with far more potential. "I do wonder how you'll write of these days, my dear. You will be writing of them, I'm certain." If anyone deserves recognition in the written word, it was assuredly the Herald.